Page 7 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

4-Theo

My phone’s buzzing in my pocket but I’m ignoring it. I get to spend forty-five minutes in the morning with them at most. It’s usually my favorite time of the day. Today, however, is not off to a good start.

The new nanny went to her brother’s last night without warning so I’m flying solo getting the kids up, dressed, downstairs to eat and off to school even though there’s a board meeting I’m due at in ninety minutes in downtown Chicago at Wolfe Media.

Jill woke up crying from a nightmare and it took three rounds of Daddy singing silly songs to get that to stop. My singing voice is not top-notch at six-thirty in the morning. Or at any other hour of the day.

Ryder growled at me, literallygrowled,when I went to wake him. He’s still not made it downstairs yet. My son has gone from an energetic, up-at-dawn kid to a lazybones since school started. If he’s not down here in five, I’ll have to go up again which will likely mean an argument.

And, my father has decided to take all his pent-up frustrations with the board of directors and our New York office out on me today.I’m your Chief Financial Officer, Dad, but I’m not a freaking miracle worker.

When’s the last time I checked my blood pressure, you ask? That must be a trick question. It’s probably best I don’t. I don’t have time to be admitted to the hospital.

I watch Jill run her spoon around the bowl, never raising it to take a bite. All the berries Maria, our cook, had added are gone. “Baby, eat your oatmeal. Mrs. Hicks will be here soon.”

Her little face scrunches up in displeasure. Whether it’s oatmeal or the mention of her nanny causing that, I’m not sure. “Lady Duckyton-Feathers calls it porridge.”

“Porridge. Okay, Goldilocks, better eat your porridge.”

Jill giggles like she always does when I play along. She tosses her blonde braid over her shoulder and takes a bite. One bite. Uno. It’s a start, I suppose.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maria making her worried face like she does every time Jill mentions Lady Duckyton-Feathers, or Lady Ducks for short, the lone, remaining hold out of my six year-old’s imaginary friends.

The pediatrician says it’s nothing unusual though most kids give them up once they start school and make real friends.

Jill started school last year but Lady Ducks has remained. She’s not had an easy time making friends which I cannot comprehend. My daughter is amazing and everyone should want to be her friend, okay?

The house phone rings, Maria answers and just as quickly starts muttering curses in Spanish. Luckily, my children’s Spanish isn’t that advanced… yet.

“It’s for you, Mr. Theo.MissusIcks,”she hisses. Accent aside, I’m thinking she dropped the ‘H’ on purpose. Maria is not fond of the new nanny. I’m not exactly a fan myself, truth be told.

The agency swore to me she’d be a great fit for my family. They’ve also said that about all the previous ones including the last one who was waiting for me naked in my bed one night about a month after she started. God no, I didn’t sleep with her. I sent her packing and I’m losing faith in the nanny agency at this point.

I pull out my mobile and check my notifications. On top of missed calls from my father, his assistant and my assistant, there’s also three from Mrs. Hicks. Great.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hicks. Everything alright this morn-” I’m cut off at that point. I cover my face to hide my annoyance from Jill as I listen.

“Daddy, you’re making your Angry Eyes,” Jill tells me.

I fake the best smile I can manage and urge her to eat the rest of her porridge. I then head upstairs to have a talk with my son who has some explaining to do.

Ryder sits on his bed, only half dressed for school with his tablet in hand and a sullen look. “I’m coming, I’m coming. I’m not hungry anyway.”

He isnine. How does he sound so remarkably like my kid brother Grayson did at fourteen? Grayson was a little shit at fourteen by the way. (So was I but I’m choosing to ignore that.)

I pluck the tablet from his hands and get, you guessed it, anothergrowl. “Do you have any idea why Mrs. Hicks found earthworms in her handbag this morning?”

“She didn’t get them out last night?” So much for concealing one’s crime.

“No, she found them this morning.”

“Poor worms. Good thing I added plenty of dirt for them.”

“Ryder!”

His eyes widen at my sharp tone before they settle on the floor between his feet. Then, he shrugs. “They’re just worms.”

Can I go back to bed and start over? “Ryder, you have five seconds to tell me why you put insects in that woman’s-”

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